Sometimes it's like fiddling your hand
Inside a jar full of beads and dimes
To look for that extra button
You kept safe once upon a time
For that old shirt you feel like wearing;
Broad white stripes on the colour, lime
That doesn't match a sock or tie
And the missing button, makes you wonder why
You kept it hanging all these years
On a rusty hook, where you never look
Except for when your laundry's late
And it's time to leave for work in haste
You can't find the bleeding button
And you curse the poor useless waste
Only to leave it hanging, lonely
Every other day
When you find another to do with
And be on with your way
